


With a Tad Bit of Help From My Friends

by BackwoodsNecromancer



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: (au where tad strange and mcgucket team up to take down bill and save stanford), (kinda), Fanon Tad Strange, Kinda, M/M, it's fiddauthor time, matt's au, tad tries his best
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-01
Updated: 2015-10-01
Packaged: 2018-04-24 08:28:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4912408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BackwoodsNecromancer/pseuds/BackwoodsNecromancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As Stanford plunges deeper into his obsession with the demon Bill Cipher, his assistant feels that the gap between them has reached an unbearable width. At that time, a muse of his own reaches out, and he decides which he values more: his sound mind, or the world he lives in- and Stanford.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With a Tad Bit of Help From My Friends

**Author's Note:**

> THANKS TO MY GOOD BUDDY MATT FOR A GR8 AU IDEA

Stanford Pines was a hard worker when it came to doing what he loved. It was one of his many admirable traits; Fiddleford remembered the first time he’d been dragged to Backupsmore’s library for a study and brainstorm session that would last until the equations on the pages began to blur and they couldn’t focus on them long enough to even begin solving them. Though Fiddleford usually regretted staying up so late the day after, while dragging himself around campus, those were the days he wouldn’t have traded for anything in the world. Things had changed since then, put simply, and not for the better.

One could only so incorporate so many triangles into their interior decoration before it started getting suspicious.

Stanford said goodnight at eight o’clock that night, and Fiddleford had to bid him goodnight while pretending not to be any combination of suspicious, exasperated, and discontent. Did Stanford know about his misgivings? Or was he too busy behind closed doors doing… Whatever it was, to notice? Whatever was on his mind was more important, or so it seemed.

Fiddleford wasn’t typically a bitter man, or an angry one for that matter. But Stanford had been acting awfully strange as of late, and he had a right to be concerned for his closest friend, didn’t he? Odd things went on in Gravity Falls, and Stanford had spent long enough examining them that perhaps it was getting to him. It was a paranoid man’s guess, but it was one of the few that would account for Stanford’s new affinities for remodeling and napping- and the odd, out-of-character outbursts that he had taken note of.

Fiddleford didn’t like the symbols that had cropped up throughout their house all of a sudden. They made him uncomfortable, as if someone were staring intently at him when his back was turned. Stanford did not share the sentiment, and the wedge between them was driven deeper every day by Stanford’s new eccentricities and Fiddleford’s unspoken worries.

Perhaps the worst part was that Stanford didn’t notice his sour mood at all. He carried on as if things were just the same between them, the odd tics aside. Fiddleford hadn’t said anything about his thoughts, but something was wrong with Stanford, that much he knew. Fiddleford wasn’t confrontational, though. He hadn’t said anything for fear of being snapped at by this new Stanford and his strange behavior. He’d heard Stanford muttering to himself, and peeked at the newest journal entries- they were messy, hurried scrawls, unlike his past records.

So Fiddleford sat in the basement, arms crossed discontentedly, wondering how something like this could’ve happened. Altogether, it was almost too frustrating for him to handle. Frustrating and sad. It felt as if he was losing Stanford, after all their time together. It felt like he was becoming less and less important to him, for no apparent reason. It was awful, and had drained Fiddleford of the energy and excitement he’d had about working with Stanford again.

After a short while of thinking and ending up more upset about everything than he had been, Fiddleford angrily rose to his feet, hands curling into fists as he mounted the stairs. His face was flushed with rage as he passed by the strange triangular symbols; he was sure their cold black pupils were following him, and the thought was maddening enough to make him slam the front door hard enough to make the windowpanes rattle.

The second he took in the cool evening air, however, his anger dissolved into a slurry of fear and regret. Maybe it was coming to Gravity Falls in the first place he regretted- everything here was a tad too strange for him. This was all Stanford’s bag, not his. But now Fiddleford heavily suspected that those oddities were having a detrimental effect on his longtime partner. Was it his place to do anything about it, or even speak up, or was this all paranoia? He cared about Stanford, more than he had anyone else.

Fiddleford sighed and stepped off the front porch of the shack. Maybe he was stressed. Maybe he’d been overworking himself, and the combination of fatigue and stress was making him anxious, making him see things that weren’t there and read too deeply into everything. He wrapped his arms around himself and started off, walking numbly away, down the trail and towards the treeline. The nagging feeling of being watched still scratched at the back of his head, like a dog that wanted in. Fiddleford feared if he turned around he would see something huge and shadowy looming over him.

As he walked down the dirt path, the feeling slowly receded. Fiddleford watched his feet as he went, head hanging. He was barely paying attention as the trees passed and Stanford’s home grew more and more distant; only when the color began to bleed from the world, leaving it in grayscale, did he lift his head. And when he did, he stumbled backward so suddenly he fell hard onto his rear.

It had the same black pupil as the effigies Stanford had put up everywhere, staring down at Fiddleford with unblinking ferocity. In fact, it was so similar to those images that he was stunned into inaction. But this thing was no yellow triangle, at the very least; instead, it was a blue-violet square, with a tie on despite the fact it had no actual neck. Similarly, it wore a bowler hat, which sat comfortably on top of it. It had skinny black appendages, arms and legs held loose as it floated above the ground, just staring at Fiddleford.

Fiddleford’s first attempt at speech came out as a breathless stutter. The next was quiet but harsh, and surprisingly hateful in tone. “What are you?” The square blinked slowly in response, and Fiddleford let out a startled cry as he was lifted off the ground and set back on his feet by an unseen source.

“Hi,” It said, “I’m Tad.”

Tad had a voice like the surface of a pool of black ink; smooth and deep, fluid and strangely reassuring. It was the voice of the late night telephone operator that answered a call to a number that didn’t and would never exist.

One small black hand was offered to Fiddleford, who flinched back. A brief moment between the two was spent with them both just staring at each other again before Fiddleford slowly loosened up, and gingerly shook the hand. He only used his first three digits, and after a quick sway of the arm, pulled his hand back. “Fiddleford McGucket.” He said warily, after swallowing the lump in his throat.

“I know.” Tad said. “I’ve been waiting for you to leave your colleague’s house for some time now.”

A spasm of fear went through Fiddleford’s chest. “H-Have you been watchin’ me?”

“Yes, actually.” A soft glow pulsed around Tad whenever he spoke. “But for an important reason. I need your help. Your companion and the world you live in both are in dire peril.”

Fiddleford knew he meant Stanford at once. “I was right.” He said, softly but firmly. “I _knew_ somethin’ was wrong.”

“Sharp eye.” Tad said. His tone didn’t change much at all, but it was meant to be praise. “Bill has never been very subtle.”

“Bill.” Fiddleford repeated, tilting his head.

“Bill Cipher.” Tad, previously stationary, moved to float beside Fiddleford’s shoulder. He wasn’t very large at all, the mechanic thought. Tad pointed to the air in front of them both, and a glowing symbol appeared- the triangle Stanford had put up everywhere. “Bill is a being from my own dimension, a dream demon whose goal is to unleash ruin on your world. I don’t know why. He’s crazy, honestly.”

Fiddleford noticed then that Bill Cipher’s pupil was vertical, like a snake’s, and that Tad’s was a horizontal slit. On some level it was a relief.

“He has lied to and deceived your associate into thinking he’s some sort of god, someone who grants knowledge to a select few. He’s using him.” A bright red outline of flames encircled the Bill symbol, and Fiddleford felt his jaw clench. Despite Tad’s calm tone, it incited anger in him.

“He’s in danger, Hadron.” Tad’s voice had grown softer.

“How do I know I can trust you?” Fiddleford turned to look at him. “The both of you are from the same dimension, you said so yourself.”

“It’s true.” Tad admitted, “But I’ve spent millions of years trying to stop him. And now I think I have my chance. But not without you. Bill is powerful, and with your friend under his control, he’s got even more of a stake in this world. Your home is almost a temple to him, with all those effigies. He can see out of each one and he watches your every move, and possesses Stanford whenever he pleases.”

Fiddleford felt a mixture of fear and disgust swell within him. “Oh, _no_ he does _not.”_

“Unfortunately, he does.” Tad said. “But together, we can save this world and your husband.”

Fiddleford opened his mouth, then made a face. “Husband? No, no, we ain’t- we’re just-”

Tad, for the first time, seemed surprised. “Did I confuse the nature of your relationship? I’m sorry.” He brought his hands together, and in a bright flash, a book appeared, flipping open. “Human is not my first language.” Fiddleford looked on with an incredulous expression as Tad inspected the book. “Date? Spouse? Partner?”

“Partner.” Fiddleford said quickly. It was best to stop him there.

Tad seemed to nod, brushing his hands off as the book vanished. “I’m very good with humans.” He said proudly. “I don’t even need to lie to them.”

“I should hope not.” Fiddleford said passingly.

“I know you’re concerned about this,” Tad Strange said, “But you can trust me. My power may not be as great as Bill’s in this world, but… We can make it work.” He sounded awfully optimistic about it. “Together.”

Fiddleford hesitated, then nodded. This was surreal, but was anything else in Gravity Falls different? “If what you say is true, then we don’t have much of a choice.”

“We’ll save your world and your partner.” Tad said. “And in time…” He offered his hand once more. “I’m sure we will even become… Pals.”

Fiddleford was resolute this time. He took Tad Strange’s hand and shook it.


End file.
